


Midnight Train

by just_me_lee



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fantasy, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25266760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_me_lee/pseuds/just_me_lee
Summary: Hey folks, this is a new original work I'm working on presently titled "Midnight Train."  The project is currently a little over 42K words and still in its first draft, but I just wanted to post the first chapter or two on here to get feedback from any interested readers of YA/NA fantasy fiction.MIDNIGHT TRAIN follows high schooler Leo Andujar who, after an accident, finds himself on a bewildering, constantly changing train ferrying the souls of the deceased to the afterlife.  After a meeting with the train's conductor, Death, Leo learns he's not fully dead yet and that he has a chance to return to the living world once the train makes its next stop there.  He becomes a Daemon in the interim, a guardian spirit keeping order aboard the train until he's finally able to return to his old life.  But a Daemon's life isn't so easy, and when his presence reawakens an ancient entity, Leo's chances of getting home won't be either.





	Midnight Train

**Chapter One**

**Coming Down the Tracks**

It was a dreary March afternoon and Leo was peddling hard. The sky was overcast and grey, a cool wind blowing across him that proved the second sign for upcoming rain. Neither the dark sky nor the cold breeze was a match for the absolute melancholy eating Leo up from the inside, but he would have welcomed the rain to at least disguise the tears welling up in his eyes and quickly threatening to overflow.

Against all his better judgement and rational thinking, his heart on the line, he’d made the biggest mistake of his entire life. Now all he could do was try to get as far away from it as fast as he could. Away from his school, away from what he’d done, and the hardest person it was to get away from: himself.

He didn’t even know where he was riding to on his bike. The cutoff street to Will and Lucia’s was coming up, but he didn’t want to go home. They’d see him crying and ask him what was wrong, whether it was something he wanted to talk about or not. He practically knocked a woman down on the sidewalk, something he normally would’ve stopped and apologized, but he kept speeding on as she shouted behind him. Will and Lucia would definitely chew him out if they found out about that, and they _always_ seemed to find out about everything he did. They’d probably find out about that too, but even though he’d deserve it he didn’t care. 

The clouds finally released as he neared the next intersection, though he didn’t realize he’d already reached it. The events of the day had been on an endless loop in his mind that his current surroundings couldn’t break through. He’d only realized he’d gone over the edge of the sidewalk by the falling bump that sent a slight vibration through his body. It brought Leo back to his senses just long enough to see the twin pair of lights burst out from the side street. They were upon him before he could even react, or respond, or even understand what was happening.

He fell into a deep, impenetrable darkness that consumed and smothered his thoughts in an almost welcome release of nothingness.

Leo started coming to in a haze, his head spinning like a top; it’s a good thing his eyes were still squeezed shut, otherwise he might have already vomited. He didn’t know where he was or what just happened. He was on his bike peddling hard and fast, trying to outrun the world and everything in it, then there was a light—or two lights—that shot out from around the corner. Now he was on the cold hard ground. Wherever he was, there was an odd repeating clacking noise. It sounded like a train but smelled like… a thrift store?

_What happened to me…?_

“What’re you doing back here?”

_… And who was that?_

“Come on now, wake up.”

Leo could feel something nudging him as he slowly drew back to consciousness. His eyes blinked open and he found himself looking up at a pale, haggard man gently kicking him with a black leather shoe. His eyes widened and locked with the man’s, who just stared back down at him. The man’s shirt and face were drenched in sweat, a miffed frown breaking through the perpetual weariness.

“What’re you doing back here?” the man repeated.

He didn’t know who that guy was, but if there was a single thing Leo knew, it’s that sweaty weirdos lurking over you was something to be avoided at all times. He bolted up away from the stranger, only to slam his head against the bottom of a low-hanging cabinet. He collapsed back to the floor, and an annoyed “Oh come on, not ag…” was the last thing he heard before slipping into darkness once again.

Leo wasn’t sure how long he was unconscious for—again—but it was abruptly ended by a quick slap across the face. He bolted awake again, looking around in all directions as the stranger stood up. He’d never actually been on a train before, but he’d seen Will watching enough westerns to recognize the inside of a train compartment. That particular one was full of baggage, suitcases and duffel bags and all sorts of things, some looking like what were in his closet and some looking like they belonged in an antique shop. Leo figured that’s probably what smelt like a thrift shop.

“Where am I? What’s going on?” he asked.

“You’re on the train,” the man said.

“What? What train? Why am I here?”

“That’s what I asked you, before you sprang up and knocked yourself out again. Passengers ain’t allowed in the baggage car.”

Leo just stared at the man, disbelievingly. “Right, sorry, my train etiquette is lacking since I’ve never been on one before and don’t even know how I got onto this one.” 

“You ain’t got a ticket?” The man’s eyes glanced over Leo suspiciously, like he was playing a joke on him.

Leo wasn’t any fonder of the stranger than he was of Leo. Whoever the guy was, he looked like somebody from his grandpa’s time. White polo tucked into khaki pants, crew cut hair, and a smug look of superiority despite looking an inch away from a heart attack. Leo was half expecting the guy to start griping about all his life choices any minute now.

“I don’t think so,” Leo replied, feeling over his pockets. When he didn’t feel anything, he checked inside; he didn’t have _anything_ on him. And that was a seriously disconcerting discovery, since he normally had his phone, wallet, and keys on him at any given point. “Nope, no, I don’t have anything apparently. So I guess someone stole all my stuff and tossed me on a train. That’s… That’s fine.”

“What you mean you ain’t got a ticket?”

“I mean I don’t have a ticket.”

The man walked away from him and scratched his head as he murmured to himself. As he went, the never-ending clacking was joined by a chain’s rattling. Leo looked down and saw a shackle around the stranger’s ankle, keeping him connected to the train car by a long, weighty iron chain.

Leo looked up from the train to the man, “Uh, what kind of train _is_ this?”

“What kinda question is that?” he asked. His tone made it sound as if Leo had asked him what two plus two equals, or if fish could dance ballet. 

“Well since I have no idea how I got here and you’re literally chained to the wall, I’d say it’s a pretty valid one,” Leo retorted. He paused and looked down at his own ankle, but saw he wasn’t likewise chained up. He couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief by the discovery.

“You ain’t chained and you ain’t got a ticket,” the man said, ignoring what Leo said. He turned back to the teen, “You best get to see the conductor then.”

“Who’s the conductor?” Leo asked. The man just gave him another incredulously, mouth hanging open and apparently unable to tell if he was being serious. Whoever the conductor was, Leo hoped they could actually answer his questions instead of making him feel like an idiot for asking in the first place.

“Go through that door there,” the man said, pointing ahead to a wide red door at the end of the car, “and you’ll find the conductor eventually.”

“Great. Thanks”

Leo turned and walked down the length of the car, glancing around at the baggage as he went. When he first woke up… or, the second time… it looked like all the luggage had just been tossed in at random. But at closer glance, he realized they were stratified in a clear pattern of descending date. The first few layers looked modern, like he’d see advertised once spring set in. Then the deeper they went the more retro they became, then eventually just downright old and antique. It was like the Grand Canyon of lost luggage. Somehow that was the least strange thing that day, so he just shrugged it off and pressed on. He grabbed the handle and slid the door open before gaping, stunned, at what was on the other side.

It was like he’d left the train and entered a five-star restaurant in the center of Paris. Or, at least what he assumed that’d look like. It was a two story room, the first floor was divided in half by a long oval bar. Shelves covered in just about every shade of liquor invented rising up to the roof, and it was the only thing filling the air. There was no ceiling dividing the first and second floor of the dining room, he could see the people at white linen tablecloth covered tables scattered around above them like balcony seating. The ground floor was filled with an identical setup of tables, each filled with all sorts of people from every kind of background. At one table was a guy in tattered and patched pants were sitting with another who looked like the Monopoly Man. They were eating, laughing, clinking crystal glasses together and drinking.

Leo stepped through into the restaurant as the door slid closed behind him. Behind the bar were seven identical women scattered all around the oval, taking orders and sending trays of drinks out with servers who seemed to just spring up out of nowhere. Leo watched the servers as he took in the scenery, and realized they had the same kind of shackles and chains as the man in the luggage car had. There were some differences, though. The first guy looked like a stereotypical trailer park lurker, but the servers were a mixed bag. There were men and women, some in similar ordinary or even shabby clothes as the luggage car man, others in elegant dresses or three-piece suits. No matter what, they all looked just as gaunt and run-down, chained up and worked relentlessly to the point of exhaustion.

As Leo looked out over the sea of faces in the dining car, he realized that he couldn’t recognize the conductor for the life of him. The stranger said he’d find the conductor on the other side of the door, but he didn’t expect there to be so _many_ people on the other side of the door. Was the conductor eating at one of the tables? Was the conductor one of the chained servers? That’d make about as much sense as anything else that day. He turned around and went back to the green door behind him, sliding it open.

“I probably should have asked this before, but what does the conductor…” Leo trailed off as he found himself addressing a gaggle of old men in a lounge room.

They were sitting around a table, chomping on big cigars and playing cards. It reminded him of that painting of dogs playing poker, only infinitely more awkward as they turned in unison and stared back at him. From the looks of things, they were just as perplexed as he was. Leo looked all around the car, at the walls lined in oak paneling contrasted to the deep emerald carpet over the floor and table. Above it and the men was a glass chandelier swaying back and forth through the collective haze of their smoking. The luggage car he’d just exited a minute before, and the stranger inside, were now gone.

“Unless you’re dealing in,” one of the men finally said, “shut the door.”

Leo slid the door shut and fell back against it, his eyes looking over the dining room as his thoughts ran wild. He’d woken up in a tiny luggage car, stepped out into a two-story restaurant, then turned right back around and walked into a poker match all in the span of about ten minutes. None of that made any sense and none of it should be possible—which is how he realized what was going on.

“Aha!” he shouted as he stared out at the restaurant. Like a ripple effect, the diners from him to the opposite wall gradually stopped eating, drinking, and laughing and looked over at him. “I see what’s going on here! This is all just some kind of really weird dream!”

Most of the diners just stared at him like he was mad, some whispering amongst themselves. After a few moments they all returned to what they were doing. Leo walked through the dining room and between the tables, muttering to himself.

“What’s this called? Lucid dreaming? I’ve never had one of those before…” He glanced around the dining room again, each table identical to the same flowers in the vase and same arrangement of spoons. “I’m not very creative when it comes down to the minor details though. It’s like I’m in the _Matrix_ or something.”

“Young man, do you need something?” An older woman sitting at the table asked. Leo didn’t realize he’d practically been looming over both.

“Oh, no, sorry. I was just taking a look around at everything. Although, since this is a dream, there’s something I’ve been wanting to try for a while…”

Leo grabbed the white linen tablecloth and yanked it off, sending everything flying. Glasses and the vase went crashing to the floor as all the utensils clattered down around them. One plate of food hit a bullseye directly on the older woman, the other that her elderly companion had half-finished flew off and splattered across the floor. A server with a loaded tray walked through at the time, slipping and sending eight full glasses falling out over two other tables as diners scrambled away.

Leo just stood there looking down at the tablecloth and the bare table in front of him. “Okay, so it’s not as easy as it looks.”

“Help! Get a Daemon in here!” someone shouted.

He looked up and saw as diners all around hurried away from him, more joining in the call for security. “Hey, wait, I’m not going to—” Before Leo could finish, he was suddenly pushed down against the stripped table. His arms were pushed together and roped together with a tight binding, he winced from their tightness.

“I thought I couldn’t get hurt in a dream…”

“You’re not hurt yet, but keep squirming and you will be,” the Daemon said as he pulled Leo up to his feet. His voice was scratchy but youthful; he was definitely on the younger side too. Maybe even around Leo’s age.

As Leo was pulled up to his feet again, he got a fresh look at the deserted dining car. Drenched tables, food and plates and silverware across the floor, broken glass; he really had made a mess of the place. Even if it were all a dream, he couldn’t help but blush in embarrassment as he was pushed off towards the other door of the train. As he stepped forward, partially pushed, he forgot to watch his step and got the same treatment as he’d accidentally given that server; he accidentally stepped in the food he’d knocked to the floor and slipped back into the Daemon. Leo’s head slammed directly into the Daemon’s face, sending him reeling to the floor.

Leo turned back to the Daemon sheepishly. He was dressed in near all black: pants, a shining silk-like vest with some kind of chain across it, gloves, and what could have either been a long coat or a cape. It had sleeves, buttons down the front, and came down almost to his knees, but it also loose and billowy and had a hood. Underneath it was a crisp white shirt. The whole ensemble looked a bit old-fashioned, but Leo liked it. When he went down, the Daemon’s hood likewise fell back and off his head, revealing chestnut brown skin and a faux hawk of dyed blonde sponge twists. Leo’s suspicions about him being around the same age were correct. His face was soft and smooth, his eyebrows arched with an unnerving intensity.

The Daemon’s gloved hand went up to his nose, where a thin stream of blood began to flow. Leo’s eyes widened and he took a step towards him, “Oh god I’m sorry, I did not mean to—”

The Daemon looked down at the blood on his glove, then glared back up at Leo. He froze in place at the ferocity in the Daemon’s eyes. Before he knew it, he was running as fast as he could away from the other teen. Leo bounded over a chair and made it to the car door in near half a second, his back slamming into the teal door as he fumbled to get it open with cuffed hands. The Daemon kicked up to his feet in a super sweet jump that Leo would have been impressed by if not for the terror the imminent beating if the Daemon caught him. He bolted over to Leo just as he managed to slide the door open.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you!” Leo shouted as he fell back into the next car. The Daemon lunged through the air over Leo and splashed down into a wide bath. The air was hot and steamy, and a slew of woman rushed away shouting from the surprise intrusion.

Leo’s face flushed crimson and he squeezed his eyes shut, “I’m sorry, I swear I wasn’t trying to be pervy! I don’t know what’s going on anymore!”

He rolled forward to his feet and rushed back into the dining car, hearing a burst of water behind him that could only mean the Daemon was still after him. Leo pushed harder and leapt forward over the chair in his path again. He wasn’t as graceful that second time, his foot caught on the side of it and sent him tumbling into another table. He grunted as he impacted the table; if all lucid dreams were like this, he _never_ wanted to experience one again.

The Daemon climbed out of the bath, clothes drenched and temper only enflamed. He looked all around before seeming to realize where he’d ended up, his cheeks turning red as he snapped his full attention back to the door and dining car. His eyes locked with Leo’s as he rolled up to a sitting position and both paused for a split second. Then Leo swallowed hard before jumping up to his feet again and running towards the opposite door.

The Daemon tried to jump up after him but slipped and slid into the dining car. He was weighed down by the wet cloak that clung to his body and would only have a harder time chasing after Leo. He glanced ahead to the green door Leo was running to. Working swiftly, he pulled out the pocket watch from his vest and pressed the button on it. On its cover was a dial wheel of colors that began to spin in response to the button. The wheel suddenly stopped, a white segment at the top beneath the focal point. As the Daemon stared ahead at the opposite door, it changed from green to white.

Leo was looking back over his shoulder at the Daemon when the door changed, but he didn’t notice even when he turned back ahead. He practically threw himself against it and fumbled with the latch again—he thought that getting knocked into tables and tripping over chairs would have already woken him up, but until he did, he was going to keep away from that crazy Daemon for as long as possible. His eyes darted around the dining room, but didn’t see the Daemon anywhere. Maybe he finally gave up? When the door suddenly slid open and Leo was pulled back from inside by the Daemon, he knew he was mistaken.

The two tumbled into a car far different from the other… four? Leo had seen thus far. It was a cozy space like a small cottage, but crammed full of enough things to make an antique shop feel claustrophobic. Leo wished for a better word than just “things” to describe the place, but that served him as well as anything else.

There were tables and chairs all over and the walls were lined with shelves containing figurines, instruments, rustic bottles, knickknacks, puppets, lamps, and clocks. So many clocks. On the shelves, hanging from the walls, and standing up at heights even taller than him. Of course that kinda went without saying; _everything_ there was taller than him. The counters and tables were up to his head at least, he felt like a kid in comparison.

The place looked like a funhouse mirror antique shop, but it didn’t _smell_ like an antique shop, not like leather and mothballs and metal and polish. Instead the air was heavy with the overbearingly saccharine perfume from hundreds of flowers. They were everywhere, sprouting up from boxes that lined the top of the walls, in vases across the shelves, and just about anywhere else someone could feasibly place them. There were even some behind the glass door of a grandfather clock.

After the short tussle, the Daemon was on top of Leo and had him completely pinned down. His hands may have already been tied behind his back, but that disadvantage didn’t make his loss any less humiliating as his face was pressed against the floor.

“Had enough?” the Daemon asked. 

“Didn’t want any to begin with,” Leo said, his words muffled by the floor.

The clattering seemed even louder in that car. He could also hear what sounded like an engine close by, though he didn’t know where that was. The noise only became louder when he heard a door slide open, then muffled again as it shut. In its place were footsteps. They started off on the other side of the room but gradually grew close, each step sending a new chill up Leo’s spine. He was frozen in place—not like he had a choice with the Daemon’s knee in his back—by the time that third person reached them and stopped.

“What have you got there, Darron?” That must have been the new stranger, though their voice was… not quite what Leo was expecting.

“A poltergeist I caught disturbing a dining car,” Darron answered as he stood up off Leo. That gave him a chance to glance up at the third stranger, and the very sight of them shook him to his core.

It was an instant realization, like a roller window shade suddenly flapping up to let in the light of his true situation. The train wasn’t a dream—heck, he doubted his imagination could have come up with half of what he’d experienced thus far. No, the sight before him of a figure clad in black robe and with a scythe in hand explained everything. And with that understanding came an empty numbness within. Even if his hands weren’t tied up, he doubtless wouldn’t have moved. He wasn’t dreaming—he was dead.


End file.
